


Missed Steps

by ElizabethJaneway1158



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Can They Do That, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, For the Umpteenth Time, I'd Like To Think So, Just Existing Together, Reunion Sex, Slight Hurt/Comfort, Slight fluff, introspective thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 15:30:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15888855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethJaneway1158/pseuds/ElizabethJaneway1158
Summary: Set just after Rm9sbG93ZXJz and before that pivotal candlelight convo in Nothing Lasts Forever. Going for a run together to make up for Scully's lost steps in the warehouse after having to ditch her step counter. How are Mulder and Scully dealing with their re connection? Are they picking up where they left off or trying to start fresh? Maybe a combination of both? Just a regular nondescript day with our agents that ends with a good roll in the hay.





	1. Chapter I: The Run

**Author's Note:**

> This one took a lot out of me. Thanks to my wonderful betas! 
> 
> peacenik0  
> geek-selforum  
> tyrsenian

Their jog is shorter than she anticipated. It might be the fatigue associated with being a woman in her fifties. Or perhaps the distraction of his heavy footfalls, his hearty pants keeping time with her own. His natural gait makes the pace a bit quicker than she usually runs, but the ease and comfort of his presence makes it worth the extra burn. 

 

She glances over to notice the sweat collecting around the neck of his grey shirt. She’d told him years ago it was her favorite of his, and wonders briefly if he still remembers .  The bouquet of his musk permeates the air around her, further serving to pull her from the concentration of her breathing. Damn him for being so effortlessly attractive. For his ability, after everything, to suck her right back into his orbit. 

 

Their agreement was on the work, to share the basement office like they had at the beginning. Only when the work started, so did everything else. Soon they were carpooling, grabbing lunch, getting coffee. Consulting on cases at each other’s houses, which easily transitioned back to Thai Tuesday at her place. Of course, the work done on those evenings was accompanied by the traditional healthy amount of time spent necking. 

 

More often than not, Mulder’s hotel room goes untouched. The formality of booking separate rooms serves only to save bureaucratic face. There are nights he is tired, worn, and she worries he might not make the drive out of the city. Waking up to Mulder sprawled out and snoring on her couch has once again become the norm.

 

Certain cases leave a sour taste in her mouth; wounds from the past are reopened and thoroughly salted. She initially denies herself the familiar comfort his arms can offer, each missed opportunity passing with a pang of regret. Each passing day, her walls continue to crumble to ruins. 

 

Following a morning cup of coffee earlier in the week, her legs chose to carry her to him. Crawling carefully into the perfect ‘Scully-shaped’ space between his warm body and the plush cushions. Later that day, she replayed the moment his arm closed around her and settled them in an easy embrace. Like a broken record, each touch filtered through her mind. Completely detracting from whatever Kersh’s debriefing had covered. To add insult to injury, this morning she finds herself accepting his offer to jog with her through the suburban dream. 

 

Their partnership restored, Mulder and Scully have once again settled into easy playful banter. Twenty-five years of history roaring back to life after she is certain that she had already finished the post-mortem on their partnership. Is that what it is? A partnership? A relationship? She finds herself becoming entrenched yet again in this maddening dance. 

 

Organizing and over-analyzing the data, processing the meaning and meta communication of every conversation between them. She wants it to stop. Just forget about it. Yet, after years of promising herself--

 

“Ah!” Her knee gives and causes her to nearly trip over her own feet. Jesus, it’s already throbbing. 

 

“Sc-Scully? What's wrong?” He jogs back to where she’s leaning over, breathing through the stinging in her ankle. 

 

“My leg’s just getting a bit tired, I suppose.” She watches the mist of her breath combine with his in the crisp air. He waits patiently, their gasps loud in her ears.  

 

“Ready to call it?” he huffs, guiding her over to sit on a bus stop bench.

 

“Yeah. Probably should.” Maybe stretching out will-- _ No.  _ Nope. Still too painful. 

 

“Back to that diner on fifth?” Without pause, he taps her calf, asking permission. She nods and he kneels to run his thumbs down her tendon. Rotates her ankle with great care. A frisson of energy sparks up her spine, warming her belly. 

 

“Mm. Oka--oh!” He freezes when she gasps in pain, eyes scanning her face. When she pats his shoulder, he returns to massage in another area up her calf. Pulling her leg up, just past a comfortable stretch, he watches her eyes intently. Purposeful fingers inching their way up the outside of her thigh. It tickles. Maybe more than tickles. He reaches high on her thigh, right near her glute. Innocently, so it would seem, massaging with an open palm. Scully’s memory recalls another time and place. Where he moved with the same precision. Ripping the seam on her favorite pair of nylons.

 

“Your IT band is pretty tight. Lots of runners with shorter strides have this problem. Pulls on the knee, the ankle.” Color her impressed. Her facial expression must give something away. There’s that smile of his again. 

 

“Yeah, Scully. I’ve been running for a while.”

 

“I never doubted you.”

 

“Wow. Can I get that in writing? You know, for--”

 

“Don’t push it, Mulder,” she nudges playfully at his shoulder.

 

“Yeah, you either. Not with the tightness in this leg. Want any--”

 

“No, I’m sure it’s fine now. I just need to work through it. Slower pace this time?” Mulder gives her calf one last pleasurable squeeze before slowly rising to stand. Carefully, he takes her hands and brings her with him. A shimmer of affection blooms beneath her sternum. 

 

“Nah, I’m ready to walk this one out.” He acts tired, stretching his arms over his head. She knows he could easily go another three miles. But he’s brushing the small of her back with his fingers. Guiding her to stand in his space. Escorting her through life, as he always has. 

 

The heat from his body acts as a gravitational field, tugging her unconscious self under the protection of his wing.  

 

“That little do-dad really counts all your steps, huh?” Small talk. Great. 

 

“Yep. It logs them straight to my phone.”

 

“Neat.” Poor Mulder. Uneasy and never sure what’s appropriate to say. She did this to him. She’s made him unsure, insecure about where things lie with them. His body is accustomed to keeping her close and she accepts, wanting to allow him the comfort of having her near. Harkening back to her favorite debate of whether rekindling their relationship--beyond partnership--is necessarily the best idea. Her cheeks flush, deeper than the rosy pink that the kiss of the cold has left. Recalling the glorious ‘afterglow’ they had experienced last week. 

 

Mulder’s eyes are held to the sidewalk; he’s thinking. She can tell. Doing her best to keep her limp under wraps requires more energy than she’d initially thought. He clears his throat. The silence is setting him on edge.  

 

“So, did we make up for those lost steps?”

 

“We sure did. Thank you, Mulder, for inviting me out. It’s been a while since I’ve run outside. It’s nice. Refreshing.” He hums and she squints up at him, just in time to see a smile ghost over his face. A full smile. A  _ genuine  _ smile. It’s contagious. 

 

“Yeah. Treadmills never cut it for me. Too damned awkward.” She giggles, imagining the confines of the handrails inhibiting the yawn of his long legs, tangling himself like a puppy not quite grown into his paws. Then again, he is never happy to be confined when it comes to anything in life, the need to feel free written in his DNA. 

 

“Your stride is too long. More steps. Smaller strides. If that’s even possible for you.” 

 

“Sure, easy for you to say,” he chuckles, patting the small of her back. It feels lighter somehow. Yet, still. She can’t help but wonder where this is all going. They were only working togeth-- 

 

“ _ Ah! Jesus.”  _ She fumbles her steps once again and he’s got her by the waist. 

 

“C’mon, Scully. You know and I know that it hurts. Let me help you.”

 

“What are you going to do, Mulder? Carry me?” He shrugs his shoulders. 

 

“Well, yeah. Why not? I’ve done it before.”

 

“Muld--”

 

“Seriously. We’ve got a block and a half left. You don’t need to be walking on that ankle anymore.”

 

“Oh? I missed the part where you earned a degree in medicine.” That gets a full laugh. Even she makes herself smile. 

 

“I learned from the best,” he says winking at her. “Alright, Doc. Up you go.” He’s crouching in front of her, arms stretched back, hands ready to grasp her. 

 

He cannot honestly think that he is going to give her a piggy-back ride into that diner. 

 

“It’s either this or over my shoulder, Scully. We’re burning daylight, not to mention my quads are on fire.” 

 

“Mulder, no. Not a chance in hell. How about you--Really? Just stand up, please, and come over here beside me,” she guides him to brace her from the side.

 

Damn this ankle. And damn him for coming to her rescue. Scully isn’t quite sure why it always manages to piss her off, but it does. Mulder always finding a way to help her, taking away her control over the situation. 

 

With a roll of her eyes, she hobbles along the sidewalk. She can feel the eyes of the public on her, what little there actually is. How did the walkway seem uncharacteristically vacant merely moments before? Before, when she wasn’t tucked under Mulder’s armpit, wobbling like a newborn foal. He settles her closer and bears more of her weight, hard muscles straining underneath her. 

 

Feeling unsteady, she grabs a firm hold of his trunk, rocked momentarily with the solid warmth she finds. He’s always so warm and comfortable.  

 

“Everything alright down there?” Mulder’s voice reverberating through her side brings her back to reality. 

 

“Oh, yeah. Just peachy,” she can feel her face growing hot. “Mulder, I feel ridiculous,” Her eyes are narrowed in annoyance.

 

“Scully, relax. You’re overthinking things. Everybody’s sprained an ankle. It’s not like you ripped your pants or anything.” He jests, cheeky grin plastered to his face. 

 

“It’s not--shut up, Mulder,” she pauses, mouth opening and closing, her brain stumbling over what exactly she is trying to say.

 

“First, it was the extra time I needed to get recertified.” Her aim with a firearm has shifted slightly since she’s gotten transition contacts. “Now, I can’t even go for a ru--”

 

“Seriously?” He shakes his head with a sigh.

 

“What?”

 

“You are  _ not  _ old. You’re just--”

 

“Getting old? Mulder, it’s a natural process.” She needs levity, not another dive into a self-inflicted internal crisis. Scully pokes him in the side with her elbow. “Some of us are simply ‘processing’ a bit better than others,” she adds with a shrug. He’s got her goat, now it’s time she got his.

 

“Scully, what did I tell you about that ‘old’ crap?” He pauses. “Besides, if you’re ‘old’, what does that make me?”

 

“A geezer.” He guffaws and tickles the spot on her side right under her ribs, causing her to squeal in surprise. 

 

“Keep that up. Just see what happens.” 

 

“You let me fall and I will--”

 

“Hoo! You’ll what, ‘old lady’?” 

 

“Watch it, Mulder.” He comes to a stop at the bench outside the diner, maneuvering her to asses her. Unfortunately, she falters a bit, but he’s there. 

 

“Alright?”

 

“Mmhm. F-- _ ah _ \--fine.”

 

“Uh huh. Sure.” 

 

“Can we just get inside? I’m starving.”

 

“Okay, Mighty Mouse, inside for some egg whites and fruit,” she allows him to brace her against his side once more. Limping together, somehow they make it through the doors. 

 

“Mm. I think I may want some waffles this morning.” He makes a sound in the back of his throat. Something akin to laughter. 

 

“Hell yeah. Waffles sound great, Scully.” 

 


	2. Chapter II: The Diner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's short! Sorry. The sex is coming. Promise. :)

 

In the warmth of the diner, they settle into a comfortable silence. Breakfast weighing heavily on their blood sugars, the fatigue of the run blanketing them with the gauze of drowsiness. Reminiscent of those idle Saturdays at the house.  _ Their  _ house. The way it was. Before the darkness sought them out once more.

 

She missed this. Missed  _ him _ . The notion that he was close by, right beside her. Dana Scully never wants to think of herself as ‘needy’, yet his recent simple gestures of affection make her yearn for him. The subtle clasp of her elbow or forearm, a casual hand sweeping her face and hair, suddenly finding her hand in his on a long drive. Her heart clenches with each brush of his skin on hers, requiring the contact like nothing she has ever needed before. Before Fox Mulder. 

 

Mulder sighs, enjoying this snapshot in time. Right now neither of them are focusing on the trauma and pain of their lives.Time has carved away at them, taking away things that cannot be restored. Mistakes that he hasn’t quite been able to forgive himself for. Causes that have been forsaken. Yet here they are, once more. Back on the X-Files, opening cases, participating in their usual brand of banter deep in the basement. Finally returning to that companionship that they deserve to enjoy. But it's somehow new, this feeling. In this moment, everything is perfect. 

 

In this moment, they’re not federal agents. There is no danger or urgency. They can simply exist in this space together. Her head rests on his shoulder. This one constant in his life, right where she belongs. Where  _ he  _ feels she belongs.

 

Mulder wonders if she might actually want to return to this life with him. The life that she had chosen to leave behind all of those years ago. Where she used to be, with the sweet promise of ‘always’. Until one day, ‘always’ was no longer an option. That same day her side of the closet became vacant; books, boots, brushes, bottles of lotion and perfume, bras hanging on the back of the laundry room door, a blanket from the back of the couch, all gone. The last of his sanity had gone with them. Packed away into the bags that she had loaded into the car, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. 

 

Could she feel differently now? Would she want to pick up where they’d left off?  His self doubt gnawing at his gut again, Mulder regrets that last bite of egg. Aw, hell. It’s a little late for nerves; he’s too old and she knows him all too well.  

 

“You should probably, uh, ice that ankle.” He blows out a deep breath. “We could go back to the house. I’ve got ace bandages and ice packs. Not to mention  _ Ancient Aliens   _ is on tonight.” His hand flips over to tickle her palm just the way he knows she likes. There. He’s asking. Putting the ball in her court. Leaving the fate of the evening in her hands. 

 

“ _ Ancient Aliens _ , Mulder?” There’s an eye roll and disapproval dripping from her voice, yet she makes no point to move away from him. 

 

Familiar camaraderie gives way to the rekindling of a flame that, she thinks in this moment, should never have been extinguished. Her head turns toward him, breath ghosting over his neck.

 

“I mean, I’m sure there’s other stuff. Chick flicks, documentaries, the latest and greatest in horror and suspense films.”

 

“I’m not sure what to think about some of the ‘latest and greatest horror’ movies.”

 

“There’s always the cult classics, Scully. I’ll pop some popcorn. Pretty sure I’ve got Reece’s in the cabinet.” He scoots his fork around in the leftover syrup. 

 

“Hm,” she sighs, letting her head rest fully on his shoulder. 

 

“What’s stopping us?” The both of them fully aware that he’s not just asking about the calories. There’s something else that used to happen on movie nights. Something much sweeter than any peanut butter cup.  

 

“Sure. Now?” He registers the deep rasp of her voice. He's heard this tone in her voice many times. In a plethora of hotel rooms. Seated on his favorite leather couch. Countless rental cars over the years. A few morally questionable evenings in the basement office. Their home. In their bed. 

 

He will never forget the first time his name tumbled from her lips with a growl that windy spring evening. Soft sighs and hitched gasps filled the damp Alexandria air. The muted light from the fish tank illuminating the silhouette of her exquisite profile. Slow and sensual giving way to heated passion. The smooth expanse of cool skin, prickling with gooseflesh. Energy normally reserved for debunking theories focused solely on him. That crackle of electricity she generates. He craves it. Desires it. Draws it in like a fresh breath. 

 

“No time like the present, Scully.” He calls her bluff. Playing it nonchalant, never leading on to how much her touch brings him to life. Mulder wonders how he can up the ante. Then she’s running her fingers over his wrist, raising the stakes herself. Swirling. That manicured nail.

 

“I need to shower after I go to Monica’s. Go through some boxes of old clothes. I don’t know.” The both of them know she’s making excuses. She excels in over-analyzing, in keeping things safe and easy, not wanting to rock the boat. 

 

There’s always something standing in the way. Does she want this? Does he still want this? Are they just settling into old habits? 

 

“S’okay. I still have some of your old clothes at home.” The dance on the countertop stops. He’s holding his breath. Hoping against hope. 

 

He’s trying so hard. It makes her heart flutter. What is it about him that makes her say ‘yes’ every time? For the first time in years, Mulder seems happier, younger even. That familiar sparkle has returned to his hazel eyes. Scully feels the warm glow of affection swelling in her chest.

 

She leans into his space, dangerously close. She knows what she does to him. That easy grin, her cerulean eyes tracking over him. Plotting. Planning. Her hand grasps his firmly. 

 

Her warm weight stirs something inside him. Memories of late nights on the couch, TV on low in the background. Her lips on his. Slow and steady. Tongues and hands exploring. 

Her legs shift back and forth. Winding herself tight; pushing his boundaries. She is showing off, capturing his attention as only she can do. Scully knows that Mulder is attuned to her every move. Every twitch and shiver.

 

Cooly pulling her hand from his, she brings it to his knee. Her fingers burn a trail up his thigh, maneuvering her body to block any prying eyes from her questionable actions. She leaves it there, consuming him with a hooded gaze. He chuckles, tilting his head to the side, watching her gaze trace his lips. This triggers his own exploration of her flushed face; wondering where exactly her mind is venturing to.  

 

The flame grows to an inferno. Her tongue sneaks out to wet her bottom lip. Raging fire engulfs them both, scorching everything in its path. She’s made her decision. 

 

“Lead the way, G-Man.” Yes.  _ God, yes.  _ Her fingernail scratches lazily on his jeans, a drowsy grin rapidly overriding her calm exterior. This is how she likes her Mulder. 

 


	3. Chapter III: Back at the Unremarkable House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here be Monst--Sexytimes.

“You can shower first. I’ll get some ice ready for that ankle. You sure you’re not--”

 

“Mulder. It’ll be fine.”

 

“Mmhm. I’m still getting some ice.”

 

“Sure. Fine. Sounds good. Don’t forget the popcorn.”

 

The climb up the stairs is worse. So much worse. Hot, tired, in pain, and ready to crawl out of her skin; the hot spray of the shower is going to feel amazing.

 

“You wanna start with the _The Exorcist_ ,” he calls up to her.

 

“Is that even a question?”

 

“Love it,” she catches him muttering to himself.

 

Taking her time through the drafty hallway, Scully drinks in the feeling of home. Something settling into place deep in her heart of hearts. The master bedroom is the same, although there’s maybe a bit more mess than she’s accustomed to; it brings a gentle smile to her lips.

 

The comforter she’d bought when they first moved in lays haphazardly over the edge of the bed. Ties and jackets are scattered over the chair in the corner and her side of the bed. What used to be her side of the bed.

 

A small flat screen adorns the chest of drawers, a Blu-Ray player decorated with lose disks. _Planet of the Apes_ , _Alien_ , _2001: A Space Odyssey_ ; poking around she finds the case-- _there--Plan 9 from Outer Space_. She had given it to him for his birthday. Her smile grows. He must be trying to sleep upstairs again. The thought makes her proud, happy that he’s doing his best.

 

A finger traces over his suits hanging in the closet. Her side still empty save a few old coats and jackets. The Armani may have changed; slimmer cuts, darker colors, sharper ties. Yet one fact remains the same: Mulder has always been handsome, _will_ always be handsome.

 

She likes his new look, enjoys it more than she cares to admit. A towel brushes her forehead unexpectedly, above her a pull-up bar is fastened to the door frame. Hm. Those lat muscles, stretching and pulling. Her nails had run down those smooth substantial latissimus dorsi not too long ago.

 

She shivers. Scattering her clothing on this worn wood floor sets her on edge. Being here, smelling Mulder, feeling his presence as if he is there, touching her. Her favorite mornings were the early ones. Shifting carefully to watch him sleep; the sleep-slackened face of Fox Mulder basking in the gloss of dawn’s first light.

 

Pressing her sleep-warmed body to his, celebrating the perfect harmony that she felt with him near. Synchronizing her breathing with each sweet breath that stirred over her skin. Firm thigh fitted between hers, supporting her even in slumber. The gentle hum rumbling behind his sternum as her fingernails trailed over the vast expanse of his chest.  

 

The sound of Mulder rooting around in the spare room breaks her from her reverie. The shower, _God,_ the shower. How long has she been in here? She needs to get clean, feel the sluice of the water over her aching body. Reveal her skin to the open air. Muted tones of arousal scatter across her spent nerves. Parts of her that she had let lie dormant for far too long awaken once more.

 

The warm spray of the water loosens the tension in her shoulders. Scully lets herself be lost in the relaxing familiarity of this shower. The water pressure, depth of the tub, the fact that this hot water tank isn’t regulated by a computer. She has always had a love of steaming hot showers. The nearly overwhelming relief the heat brings to her aching muscles, relaxing and cleansing her from the day.  

 

His soap, earthy and tinged with the perfect amount of spice, lathers against her skin so well. The smell calls up a memory or seven, a highlight reel of ‘Mulder’s greatest hits’. Always one to seduce her in the shower, persuade his way into a playful ‘quickie’ before she had to jump in the car and head to the hospital.

 

Lips murmuring and sprinkling kisses over her shoulders, broad hands massaging her breasts. A gentle touch, yet always firm enough for her to know his intent. Indulging herself, Scully allows her fingers to linger over her breasts a bit longer than necessary, closing her eyes to sink into the warm pulse building between her thighs.

 

Submerging herself under the memory her active mind conjures up. Mulder standing firm behind her, tracing intricate patterns on her belly, just above her pubic bone. She sighs and imagines him delving further. Wandering down. Lower and lower.

 

Running a finger slowly through her folds, she stops. Circling her clit expertly. Teasing, just as he would. Bringing his mouth to her neck. Tender. So tender. His tongue peeking out to lick at the salt of the shell of her ear.

He pulls at the lobe of her ear, taking it between his teeth, tugging. His finger dipping inside. Just far enough to gather the moisture that’s collected th--

 

“You about done in here?” He knocks and asks through the crack in the door.

 

 _“Jesus, Mulder._ ” Her hands fly to the knob and shuts the water off.

 

“Oh. Sorry.” His voice retreats from the door a few paces. Without the water running, she can still hear him. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I, uh, had to replace the water heater. It doesn’t have the capacity. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t get a surprise if you ran out of hot water.”

 

“That’s fine. Mulder? Could you hand me a towel? I didn’t think to grab one.”

 

“Yeah. Sure.” After a few moments she hears him pad back to the door of the bathroom.

 

“You want me to--”

 

“Yes. Please. It’s okay.” She thought that after they’d started to have sex again that he wouldn’t be so afraid of overstepping boundaries. Not sure whether to be amused or annoyed, Scully continues to humor him. Hoping that he will come to the conclusion that he is welcome to occupy her space once more.

 

He comes in. Averting his eyes, proffering a large fluffy towel- her favorite. Of course he’s kept it. She accepts the offering and thanks him. Stepping from the shower, he notices her shivering.

 

“I should’ve tossed it in the dryer. Sorry,” he’s reaching for her arms with another towel before he rethinks the action.

 

“S’okay. Thank you, Mulder. Really,” she smiles warmly at him and hugs the second towel around her. Large hands tentatively scrub warmth into her shoulder blades. He stays there. Holding her. Not close, yet close enough.

 

Close enough to feel the heat rise between them, giving her tremors of a different origin. She hums, leaning ever so slightly into his touch.

 

“How’s the ankle?” His voice is a quiet. Gentle. Soft. Like his skin after a warm shower.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Your ankle. Looks a little swollen,” without taking his hands off of her, he kneels in front of her once more. Letting his palms skirt over her torso and hips, settling on the backs of her thighs.

 

“May I?”

 

“Admit it, you just like playing doctor.” He grins fully at his quip coming from her mouth and bites his bottom lip in concentration. Or perhaps to keep from making a more perverted joke. Saying something he thinks will taint the moment. Whatever this moment was rapidly evolving into.

 

“You’ve been hanging around me too long, Scully.” She shares a laugh with him. Still chuckling, Mulder takes her hands and braces them on his bare shoulders, the cutoff of his shirt affording her an uninhibited view of his muscled arms.

 

Grasping the arch of her foot as if it were made of glass, he flexes it up and down.

 

“That hurt?”

 

“Mm. Not really. Feels a little tight.” Is he really only looking for a strained muscle? Probably. Does she want him to have an ulterior motive? Not quite sure. Is she going to second guess her thought process? Not at this moment in time. Her overactive mind is quieted by his touch.

 

He rolls it in to--

 

“ _That_ … is what hurts.” He brushes his thumb just under her ankle bone. There really is some swelling already, more than likely to double by tomorrow. Damn.

 

“You did some damage here, Scully.” Fingers leaving the safety of her foot, Mulder runs his hand absentmindedly up and down her leg. He looks to her for a response. She doesn’t want to give one, content with his hand traveling over her skin.

 

“So you’re admitting it hurts now,” he purses his lips and lets her foot back down to rest on the floor.

 

“You never asked me if it hurt. You only asked if I needed help.”

 

He shakes his head in disbelief, waiting for the reply that continues to sacrifice itself on the tip of her tongue every time she forms the thought. ‘ _Yes, Mulder. It hurts.’_

 

Feigning disinterest, he extricates himself from her and rises. Right before her very eyes, she gets a delicious view of the impressive ripple of his abdomen as he tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it to the corner by the sink.

 

“Fair enough. If you’re not going to take this perfect opportunity for a foot-- _possible total body_ \--rubdown, then this underpaid trainer is going to hit the showers,” he states with a theatrical frown. She knows he jests to hide the disappointment. The unexpected withdrawal of her comfort with including him in her pain.

 

She rolls her eyes, tossing the extra towel back in his face. Scully makes a slow retreat, catching a glimpse of his perfect ass in the foggy mirror.

 

“Full body massage, Scully.” She laughs at his second sing-song attempt. He turns on the water and continues to talk as she’s closing the door. “There’s an ice pack on the bed. Lay down and elevate your ankle.”

 

“Okay. I’ll be there when you get out.” She interprets his silence as shock with her sudden compliance. If he wants to pamper her, fine.

 

Scully limps over to the chest of drawers, removing a Knicks shirt and an old pair of boxers. Her comfort outfit of choice.

 

Donned in soft faded material, she makes her way to her bedside table. Shuffling through the top drawer, she locates the lotion she knows will be there. Arranging herself on the pillows, her limbs grow heavy. Scully holds the bottle of lotion to her belly, warming it for use. Mulder will know exactly what is going on the second his eyes spy it.

 

This bottle is from a random night out. Nothing special. He had needed to get out of the house and she had needed to get out of her own head. It was wonderfully refreshing in its simplicity. An inability to decide on what restaurant to stop at brought them to the D.C. mall. They found themselves entertained for hours; laughing around mouthfuls of Chang’s Wok, window shopping, people watching, and simply enjoying being out of the house.

 

Later that evening, much later, Mulder had her lathered thoroughly after a long, slow shower. Scrubbed and clean, he took her to their bed. Breaking open the lotion, massaging every last knot from her tense body.

 

Mmhm. The wonderfully sinful things those hands did that--

 

“Hey, hey. Cashmere Mist,” he calms her startling with a warm hand on her thigh, settling on the bed beside her. He’s wet, steamy, and clad only in the towel around his waist. “Turn over,” he instructs with a few pats.

 

“I thought I missed out on the massage opportunity,” her eyebrow arches in suspicion.

 

“Mmhm. Sure did. Lucky for you, Scully,” he uncaps the bottle and warms a bit between his hands, “I’m a stand-up kind of guy. Now you just roll over.”

 

Her muscles are tight, jumping at first contact, easing with each press of his thumbs. Mulder is doing his best not to let his attention wander, but he is easily distracted by the juncture of those  thighs. Her legs shift, opening herself a little wider than he anticipated. His hand grasps the meat of her leg fully, thumb circling, traveling up to the juncture, skimming under the leg of the boxer shorts--

 

 _“Ow-ww,”_ she gasps.

 

“Too hard?”

 

“No. It’s alright,” she settles again, lifting her hips minutely. “Keep going.”

 

“Same pressure?”

 

“Mm. Yeah. S’good.”

 

This is for Scully’s benefit, Mulder remembers ruefully. Willing his blood back to the northern hemisphere of his body. With the hushed mewling she’s producing, that’s going to be a difficult task.

 

He moves closer to the inside of her thigh, meticulously inching closer to where he left off. Her muscles tensing under his ministrations.

 

“Scully, relax. This is supposed to loosen you up, not make you stiff.”

 

He shifts, readjusts his angle on the situation, moving to straddle her. He needs to change the approach. Work his way down, have her totally unwound before reaching her injured ankle. Beginning with her delicate shoulders, he kneads deep into the tissue. Lightly dusted with freckles, smooth like butter, her flesh gradually becomes malleable under his touch.  

 

Knuckles trail over the sharp wing of a shoulder blade, it trips a nerve and her breath leaves her. The resulting gasp for air from the wet lips pressed against the soft grey of the pillow pulls a sympathetic breath from him. He re-establishes his purpose, working her trapezius into submission.

 

“Ye-ah-ah.”

 

He swallows. Hard. Jesus Christ. Things are quickly spiralling out of his control. Focus. On. The. Task.

 

“How have you been sleeping with these knots?”

 

“Nn. N’t well.” Her jaw is slack now, tongue every so often venturing out to wet her lips amid intermittent pants of air.

 

“That’s not good, Scully.” He gives in to the siren call of her skin and places a gentle kiss to her neck. She tastes of fresh linen and something undeniably Scully. “My doctor always says we need our rest.” Another kiss. This time, a little bit closer to her taunting jawline.

 

“Mmhm.” Her head twists just so, he raises his head simultaneously to ask her what she needs. Their lips brush, questing, light and unbearably slow. His hands still, the massage of his mouth on hers taking precedence. He sighs as Scully tugs at his lower lip.

 

She rolls over in his embrace; her hunger to taste him grows with each pass of his tongue over hers, not willing to let go even if only for a moment. Her hands in his hair, his fingers sneaking under the worn hem of the shirt. The words they both want to speak are swallowed whole, charred by the burning need overriding their minds.

 

Her shirt is slipped over her head with ease, pert nipples strain for attention, puckering beautifully in the cool air. He gently runs his palms over them both, thumbing across her nipples with the same leisurely cadence of her lips under his.

 

Scully shimmies out of the boxers, kicking them to the foot of the bed. She moans as Mulder pinches a nipple, dragging a skilled tongue over it’s partner. Her fingernails scratch over his scalp and the heavy weight of his groin becomes acquainted with the smooth warmth of a shapely leg. He’s groaning into the humid air. Every word he attempts to form dies on his lips. But they don’t need words.

 

Mulder presses a kiss to her sternum; hands trail over her ribs, down the silk of her belly. Warm and inviting, he takes up an interest in the soft skin around her clit.

 

Returning to explore the scorching heat of her mouth, he hovers there, his kisses soft and tender. She groans in frustration, trapping his bottom lip in her teeth; her hips roll against him seeking more pressure.

 

Two fingers press just under her clit, moving slowly in broad strokes. Teasing and testing, finding a rhythm; her subtle movements tell him where she wants him, his touch more insistent on her swollen nub. His tongue tastes her moan just before the first rush of moisture meets his fingertips.

 

Mulder leans back to watch, experience the arousal wash over her features. The flush of rosy pink coloring her delicate freckled cheeks. The moment her pupils dilate fully, he follows as the sparkle of onyx haloed in cerulean blue draws him in further.

 

Panting, Scully slips her hand between them and tangles their fingers together, guiding his movements. Eyes locked, they slowly coax small tremors from her abdomen. She spreads her lips wider, giving him more direct access to her slick--

 

 _“_ Jesus, Scully _.”_ She moves past him to push two fingers inside herself, drawing them out slowly with a groan.

 

God, he loves doing this to her. Watching her upper lip twitch into the hint of a smirk before being wiped away by the dropping of her jaw. Melting completely into the pleasure he’s sharing with her. The less she thinks, the further she settles into the here and now. The fact that he can make her feel this way, shut down that beautiful mind, overwhelms him.  

 

Mulder bites his lip as he circles her clit with his fingers. Her head rolls to the side. He sucks on the sweet and salty divit of her collarbone and she stills their hands.   

 

“Mm. Mulder, I need--”

 

Giggles bubble up from her belly when he runs the scruff of his stubble over her neck; he pulls their joined hands up her body to rest over her heart, feeling the breath fill her lungs.  

 

“I-I need--,” she’s smiling and panting into his mouth.  

 

“Mm. What, Scully?” He’s traveling down her neck, rolling her pert nipple between his thumb and index finger.

 

“ _You_ . I need to feel you. _All_ of you.” She craves the dense weight of him. She yearns to hear the thundering of his heart, feel the slick of his sweat, and smell the arousal blooming on his skin. The desire of basking in his new-found virility.  

 

“You have me.” He knows. Intuitively, he knows she knows. But, he’ll never stop telling her. Each time they have sex, a part of the puzzle falls back into place. It’s as if he’s learning her body all over again. He’s never felt so alive, thriving from the ardor that she calls from within him.  

 

But, this. He remembers this. The way she loves to be held close. To mold into him, revel in the warmth and support of his body against hers. The fulfillment of connection. Full body contact. But before he begins, there’s just one thing he requires.

 

Tonguing wet open mouthed kisses down her belly, Mulder catalogues the tremors his lips evoke. He could wax poetic on this smooth expanse. Write a thesis on her perfect little belly button.

 

Einstein's got nothing on the paradox that is Dana Scully. The soft skin covering lean muscle. A slim streamlined body that seems so fragile, yet houses the strongest being he has ever known. He pauses for a brief moment of reflection at the peak just before settling down to brush his lips over the insides of her thighs _._  

 

She can sense him before he’s even begun. Eagerly arching off the bed to meet his wandering mouth.

 

“Mm. Somebody’s more than ready,” he pants. The huff of air over her heated flesh plucks a moan from the back of her throat.

 

“Mulder. Please.”

 

“Since you asked nicely,” he drawls lazily.

 

Avoiding her clit, he simply runs the tip of his tongue over her outer lips. Appreciating the feel and taste of her flesh. Wanting more, he suckles, pulling them all the way into his mouth, rolling them over his tongue. He teases and tastes. Nips and sucks. Tugging and releasing. Once in a while delving in to run a broad tongue through the heart of her. Lapping up the moisture she’s generating. Following his instinct to drink her down, consume her with the intensity of his reverence of her body and mind.   

 

She draws a sharp breath; her mouth opens as if to say something, only to release a hitching sigh. He wants her to talk to him, tell him her deepest desires; but it’s silence like this that intrigues him. When her higher function shuts down to be awash in the sensation. In the raging burn of the fire. This man lives to catalogue every inch of her, survey her entire body. Mapping out the routes to her heart, soul, with breathtaking ecstasy. Speaking of, she’s not quite sure if she is breathing.

 

He hums against her, pleased with his efforts. A deep stuttering breath refreshes the stale air in her lungs. Jesus Christ, the things he does to her.   

 

Looking down her body, stretching and palming at her breast, she finds dark eyes dancing with mirth. Fingers spread through his ruffled hair and she closes her fist. Lightly pulling at his hair, urging his face right where she needs it. He groans and grabs her ass. Spreading her further, bringing her down nearly to the edge of the bed.

 

Two fingers slide into her, and firmly press on her front wall. Then he begins rubbing slowly, gently coaxing her orgasm to him. Scully lets out a keening whine from between clenched teeth. A slow purposeful rhythm forms as he gives and she takes; the more she takes, the more he wants--needs--to give. He sucks at her clit, rolling it over with his tongue. Her thighs tense around him, keeping him locked in. He’s content to stay there, drown in the sweet musk of her.  

 

“ **_Oh._ ** _That--Yes._ ” He feels her tightening. Soul and body. Head lolling on her neck, fingers running rapidly through his hair. ‘Yes’, indeed. She is pliant under him now; quivering around him, the rush of moisture that flows from her begins to slick her swollen folds.

 

Encouraged, he doubles down, filling his mouth with her. She settles her leg over his shoulder; opening her further, encouraging Mulder to change technique. Two fingers, his middle and fore; tongue fluttering over her clit.

 

She’s writhing and panting, her hips stutter with every firm stroke. God, she’s really getting wet now, he savors the taste of her. He’s hard, _beyond_ hard. The way she’s whispering broken syllables of his name between labored breaths, murmuring everything and nothing.

 

He gives it all he’s got, nearly lifting her away from his face with the force of his hand; he sucks hard on her clit, the wet echo of his efforts send a sympathetic pulse through his dick. All at once, Scully grunts and tugs fiercely at his hair, moving away from his mouth. Her legs close, thighs shaking, pressing them together to trap his hand and still his movement.

 

“Christ, Scully.” Even after twenty-five years together, Mulder still finds himself in awe of her; his love for her incomprehensible.

 

“S’too much.” She pets him lovingly, soothing the sting of his scalp. “C’mere,” she’s smiling, eyes closed, humming an aimless tune. Reaching for him, kneading and tugging at every available surface of his skin she can reach.

 

“Okay?” Mulder brushes his lips over her damp temple. She guides him to her mouth, peppering his face and lips with sweet kisses.

 

“Yes.” Scully continues to run her hands over him, dazed and buzzed with arousal.

 

He rests more of his weight over her, letting their abdomens trap his erection. She wets her bottom lip; it shines, begging him to taste it. She moans when he pumps his hips lazily and coaxes her lips to open. Her fingernails skitter across his shoulder blades; the way her hands clutch at the meat of his sides causes his balls to tighten.

 

Scully pushes against his shoulders, he raises himself on his hands, creating a gap for her to grasp his leaking cock; the heat of her stare burns through him. Sliding firmly up the shaft, closing around the sensitive head, her thumb strokes over the slit and glans. Mulder’s hips twitch of their own accord with her encouragement.

 

“Do we have any lube left?” He loves it when she talks shop while jerking him off; a few more pumps into her hand and he grins, rolling off of her to rummage around in his bedside drawer.

 

“Ah. yes,” he wiggles back to lay beside her, waggling his eyebrows and popping the top to the bottle with a wink. “Ask and ye shall receive, Scully.”

 

“Yes, very good. You first.” Handing over the lube, Mulder takes the pillow from his side and moves to kneel, her calves between his knees. Arranging the pillows to prop behind her back, he jumps when hot lips close over his cock.

 

“ _Fuck,”_ he hisses.

 

Glowing titian hair moves like waving wheat, blocking his view from the glorious head he is receiving. She exhales through her nose and swallows him as deep as she can with one stroke, then slides off of him with a sly smile.

 

“Have to make up for lost time,” she cocks her eyebrow, regarding him with that subtly playful expression she challenges him with so often. She uncaps the bottle and pours the silk over his twitching cock.

 

“No complaints from m--Je-zus, Scul-lee!”

 

The lube coats his throbbing flesh; Scully takes her sweet time, moving up and down his shaft with great care. He grasps her wrist, urging her to lie back; covering her body with his, kissing each nipple on his way back to where he left off.

 

“Your turn,” he whispers.

 

Scully sighs and stretches with her arms above her head. He eases himself to her opening, running languidly through her folds. Brushing a strand of hair from her face, he thrusts once, twice; brushing her clit with each stroke.

 

Mulder pushes into her slowly, aligning his breathing with hers. And, Christ help him, he can almost _feel_ the groan in the back of her throat, growing stronger as she takes him in. Once he’s buried to the hilt, she shudders; gooseflesh breaking out over her body. Her muscles stretch around his twitching shaft, producing exquisite ripples of fulfillment.   

 

With each rock of his hips, her body sings with the dull ache of being full. Mulder craves to feel her fully, as deep as she can take him. He brings a hand under her ass, lifting and opening her wider to him.

 

“Oh, God. Faster,” she breathes. Her eyes slip closed, arms stretching toward the headboard.

 

He grunts in reply and picks up the pace, swiveling his hips as he pulls out, feeling the quiver of her walls around him. Deep, guttural moans punctuate his movements. She’s cupping her breasts, pinching and pulling her nipples fiercely.  

 

“Touch yourself,” he gasps. Sweat gathers at his temple and rolls down the side of his face, collecting in the hollow of his throat.

 

“Oh,” she sighs. “God.”  

 

“Yeah, slowly,” he pants. “Like I do.” He’s persistent, his want to feel her tumble over the edge.  

 

She whines and lets a hand drift lower, nearly sobbing with relief as her middle finger runs over her swollen clit. Her fingers slip around his cock as he pumps her, pulling their combined wetness to her overstimulated nub. Hissing, her hips push against him, cunt tightening deliciously.

 

“You--God. So beautiful. More. Yeah, Scully. Give it more” he urges. His muscles scream with the effort of driving into her with such fervor. But the way she’s rubbing herself clears any fatigue from his mind. “Fuck, Sc--”

 

She hikes her leg over his hip, shifting the angle of his cock.

 

“God _, yes-ss-ss_ ,” her breath fizzles through her teeth. “Right-- _oh_ \--Mulder, right _there._ ”

 

“Christ,” he huffs. “You. Feel. So. Good.” He’s groaning between thrusts.  

 

“Yeah?” Her eyes open and she watches him, clenching purposefully around him.

 

“Fuck, yeah.”

 

Her free hand comes to play at his lips, he can taste the brine of her, drawing a delicate finger into his mouth.

 

Scully gives him a few more strokes, her face lined with concentration, the heel of her hand pressed to her clit, fingers spreading herself. He tries to get more leverage to hit her front wall, finding her working to raise her hips higher and higher, searching for the perfect angle. He slows his movement, making long, deep strokes.  

 

“You still--no?” He leans in closer, staying nestled inside her.

 

“I have an idea,” Scully’s muttered reply ghosts over his mouth. He pulls her in for a long kiss.

 

“Whatcha’ got in mind, G-woman?” She kisses him again, sighing when he nibbles at her lips.

 

She starts to speak and he silences her with another searing kiss.

 

“Hold that thought.” His hand slips under and kneads her ass. “I’ll do you one better,” he whispers. “Turn over.”

 

She draws in a deep breath and releases it on a moan. Scully knows what’s coming next. And by the look of it, she agrees with his suggestion wholeheartedly.  

 

He leans back on his haunches, watching her body roll under him; she brushes his groin with her ass, folding her arms and settling to lay flat.

 

“Mulder. Let’s go.” Scully grins, squirming against the comforter. His eyes are drawn to the curvaceous dance of her ass.

 

“Hell, yeah.” Carefully spreading her legs with his knees, Mulder pumps his cock a few more times; Scully poised in front of him is a gift that will certainly keep on giving.

 

Her ass is raises impatiently in the air, he takes two handfuls of her flesh and pulls her open; thumbs circling close to the glistening cunt waiting for him. She sighs into the comforter, switching her head to face the other side.

 

“God, Mulder. Let’s. _Go,”_ Scully growls low in her throat.

 

“Oh, yeah?” He’s seriously enjoying the view, loving how aroused she is. “Scully, your ass--God _damn_ , woman.” He gives the left cheek a quick smack, sliping a thumb over the pucker of her slick anus and down to dip into her swollen pussy. “Christ, you’re wet.” She loves this position; her legs spread wider around his.

 

To prove his point, Scully pushes back into his finger; he lets it slip just inside her, feeling the tug of her wet heat.

 

“Mul-der-rr,” her voice nearly a whine.

 

He splays his hand over her low back, pressing it toward the mattress and she tilts her hips in that perfect way. Guiding himself through her arousal, he pushes into her. Slow, deep, waiting to feel her flutter around him.

 

 _“_ Fuck. Me _._ ” Hearing Scully’s graveled curse spurs Mulder into action. She doesn’t have to ask him twice.

 

He sets a rough pace, his cock nudging her cervix every few thrusts. She presses back into him, circling her hips; her sighing moans grow stronger the harder she grinds against him.

 

“That’s it. Ye-ah-- _Holy shit.”_ She’s circling her hips, pressing back to meet him and pulling away as he withdraws. Mulder draws a deep runner’s breath. Tapping his core for the stamina to give Scully what she wants. What she needs.

 

She’s well on the other side of intelligible thought, the only thing her mind is the way his cock is moving perfectly inside her. This angle opens her wide to him; she shivers when his body covers her. His finely muscled arm wraps around her shoulders, lifting her from the bed to arch against his chest.

 

“Love the way you feel.” He tucks his nose between her neck and shoulder. Her teeth just barely sink into his forearm; grunting in time with his thrusts. Scully grasps on either side of where her mouth is anchored to him.

 

“Mm-Mul-” She pulls away from his arm; her shallow pants rush past his ear.

 

“Yeah?” His arm bracing her hip slips low, travels the burning heat of her pubis to play at her clit. Her whole body tenses the second he makes contact; spreading her legs as wide as she can, she’s leaning all of her weight into him now.

 

“Come on, Scully. I can--Christ--I can feel it,” he pants. “You’re so close.”

“God,” she gasps. “So--oh--that’s so _good_.”

 

“Tell me. Tell me how good, Scully,” his tongue trails over the shell of her ear.

 

“So. Fucking. Good.” They’ve found a rapid rhythm. Hurtling quickly toward oblivion.

 

“Don’t. Stop. _God._ Damn ** _._** _Don’t--_ ” Her fingers grip his arm tightly, his hold tightens on her. Hips circling insistently, fingers at her clit changing tempo. Firm, broad strokes over her sensitive flesh; he bottoms out with every stroke. The subtle increase of the slick pull of her body him with every withdrawal sends a shiver down his abdomen. She’s close, so very close.  

 

“Yes. Oh. More. _Fuck_!” She bites down on his arm. Hard.

 

The flame in her abdomen roars to life, an all-consuming combustion; cresting low in her belly, washing over her chest. Her mouth falls open, gulping in a lungful of air; the waning energy flowing and tingling over her entire body. Each pulse of her muscles around the hot weight of him more satisfying than the last. She gives into it, allowing it to carry her to another plane of existence.

 

Scully sags in his arms, a long groan of relief sounding from deep in her belly. Like a symphony to his ears, he revels in the smoky contralto strains floating through the humid air. Her body twitching and shivering under and around him.  

 

The tight fist of her cunt pulls him in deeper; drawing the sensation draws his own orgasm from him. Hips faltering with only a few more thrusts, his entire body seizes and a strangled sob is rent from his chest as he empties himself in her.

 

“Jee-zus, _God_ , Scully,” he grunts into the sweat slicked column of her throat.  

 

Mulder wordlessly pulls himself from her, turning her shivering body to lie prone. He sinks into her and she welcomes him, pulling his head resting to rest on her sternum. Wrapping herself around him, feeling and listening to his breathing. Lingering kisses are deposited on the crown of his head. He sighs, giving her breast a few kisses; arms regaining some strength, he stretches around her, hands resting to tangle in her hair.

 

Scully is content to rest in silence, immersing herself in the cozy comfort of the buzz of endorphins and oxytocin and Mulder. The later, however, can only stay stationary for so long.

 

“M’ crushin’ you?” His head pops up from its resting place.

 

“Nope. Not yet,” she chuckles. “You’re warm. Stay.” She is able to coax him back to her breast.

 

Mulder hums into the milky sweetness of her skin.

 

“Wanna watch that movie now?”

 

“Maybe later. Not really in the mood,” her yawn evokes another layer to the post-coital drowsiness he’s attempting to fight.  

 

“We could always just turn something on up here.” He combs through her hair lazily, nuzzling the tender flesh under his cheek.

 

“Sounds good,” she mumbles.

 

“Oh, hey.” Mulder is up once more, squinting at the digital display of the alarm clock. “Just in time.”

 

She grumbles when he moves from her to turn on the television. Just as she is ready to pull the comforter over her and bundle against the rapidly cooling air, Mulder is scooping her up to lay across his chest. He chuckles when she snuggles into his side, latching onto him instantly for warmth. He tucks the blanket around them and kisses her forehead.

 

She listens to his breathing and the faint murmurs coming from the television. Sleep almost has her in its clutches when the popular theme that she’s heard so much over the years sneaks into her subconscious thoughts.

 

“Really, Mulder?” He squeezes her in apology.

 

“Sorry, Scully. Brand new episode.”

 

“Sure. Fine. Whatever,” Scully sighs. “But, I’m going to want food when I wake up.”

 

“Of course. I’ll drive to Wawa and grab some sandwiches.” He lifts the blanket to reveal the bundled woman poking him in the ribs.

 

“Wawa sandwiches? Mul-der, no.” Her frown tugs at his heartstrings.

 

“Okay. You rest and then we’ll look at the stack of menus.”

 

“Mm. S’better,” Mulder tucks her back in and kisses her forehead, eyes never leaving the action on screen.

 

Scully is slowly drifting to sleep; the safe cradle of his arm a wonderful change from her cool pillows in D.C. Her light snores are accompanied by the muted sounds of the newest episode of _Ancient Aliens._


End file.
